


Falling through the sky

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Brief Allusion To Being Suicidal, Crying, Depression, Depressive Episode, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied depressive episode, New Year's Eve but it's sad, People are good friends, Platonic Relationships, Sad boi hours, Y'all read my angst fics you know how it goes, breakdowns, friendships, i'm sorry????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: This is stupid. He should be out of the house by now; he didn’t even really tell Kaede that he wasn’t coming to the celebration tonight. She invited him weeks ago, and at the time he thought that it was going to be great. The thought of spending the end of the year with his closest friends, of sitting around a table and reminiscing and laughing about all the fun they’ve had together, of eating Kirumi’s cooking and laughing at all of Kokichi’s jokes, it was so very appealing at the time, but the idea of even crawling the few feet to his wastebasket so that he can throw up somewhere other than the carpet suddenly makes his stomach want to cave in.He hasn’t even eaten anything today.---New Year's Eve is a terrible time to have a relapse.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Saihara Shuichi, Saihara Shuichi & Others
Comments: 16
Kudos: 46





	Falling through the sky

**Author's Note:**

> see a therapist

Shuichi imagines falling.

He’s not sure where he’s falling from, or why; only that he’s falling so hard and so fast and from so, so very high that the wind is pushing against him hard enough to make his ribcage cave in. He can’t breathe; the air being forced against his face is so dry and thick, and tears are appearing in his eyes, only to be dried off immediately seconds later because the wind is so very, very strong. The longer he falls the deeper the pit in his stomach gets. Even though he’s been falling for ages, breaking through icy wet clouds and spinning around and around because he can’t control himself when his limbs feel so numb, the city beneath him doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. He just continues plummeting down from the heavens, blue sky spreading out from every direction except down, and waiting for the ground to meet him so he can squeeze his eyes shut and embrace his death.

Of course, Shuichi isn’t really falling. The reality is that he’s sitting in the corner of his room on New Year’s Eve, his body tucked against his dresser and his knees pressing hard against either side of his head, and his breaths are coming out short and gaspy because he’s having a mini breakdown, and all the clouds and the cold are in his head. It’s a terrible thing to default to whenever he feels terrible, but imagining that he’s getting closer and closer to an inevitable,  _ painful  _ demise is somehow comforting. Maybe because all of his other problems are self-caused, and so this one, which is theoretically out of his control, feels like a breath of fresh air.

(Which is a stupid metaphor considering the situation, but Shuichi is so  _ damn  _ embedded with metaphors, with similes and analogies and all different types of figurative language, and he’s utterly exhausted by it, but he can’t get out of it no matter how hard he tries.)

Eventually his eyes do flutter open, though this is an accident, and he stares piercingly down at the carpet beneath him, and suddenly his choked breaths turn into hiccuping sobs and he throws both his hands over his mouth, shoulders heaving and shaking but the bile, which he thought was rising in his throat, receding carefully back into his stomach.

This is stupid. He should be out of the house by now; he didn’t even really tell Kaede that he wasn’t coming to the celebration tonight. She invited him weeks ago, and at the time he thought that it was going to be great. The thought of spending the end of the year with his closest friends, of sitting around a table and reminiscing and laughing about all the fun they’ve had together, of eating Kirumi’s cooking and laughing at all of Kokichi’s jokes, it was so very appealing at the time, but the idea of even crawling the few feet to his wastebasket so that he can throw up somewhere other than the carpet suddenly makes his stomach want to cave in.

He hasn’t even eaten anything today. It’s so infuriating that he’s sitting here, like this, alone in his bedroom, just because he woke up this morning and felt like he wanted his ceiling to cave in on him. Being seen by  _ people  _ sounded unbearable, talking to them sounded worse, and being with them all night? He had to cancel. A quick text to Kaede--  _ sorry, cant make it tonight--  _ had done the trick, though Shuichi doesn’t doubt that she’s been flooding his phone with messages since receiving it, wondering why he’d suddenly cancel like that, but guilt filled his stomach the moment he hit send, so he shut off his phone and threw it away and has tried not to think about it since.

The clock on the nightstand tells him that it’s a quarter till eleven, which means they’re getting into the final hour of the year. Shuichi wonders what they’re doing. Laughing, probably. Enjoying themselves. They’ll have worried about him a few hours ago when they all got together, but by now they’re over it, ready to move on and talk about other things. To actually enjoy their time together. He prefers it this way (would prefer it if they don’t worry about him at all, don’t think about him at all, completely ignore his existence until he becomes nothing more than a strange nostalgic feeling they get every time they see something that reminds them of him) and he hopes that they’re having fun, but the thought of them all talking and being happy together when he feels so unbearable is enough to bring on another panic attack.

All of this feels so ridiculous. If he had just gotten up and ignored that feeling this morning, he could be with them right now. He might be a bit overwhelmed, but they’re all so respectful of his feelings. In fact they probably would’ve let him hang out in a different room, where it’s less loud, and Ryoma and Himiko would’ve joined him for sure, because that’s the kind of people that they are, they like the quiet. Those two are great company for when he’s feeling like this. They get it, almost more than anyone else in the class.

But it’s too late to go and see them. Too late to pop in and say hi and explain what happened. By the time he gets there it would probably be eleven thirty, and they’ll be well into the evening by then. Besides, he doesn’t want to feel all of their eyes on him as he walks inside, reeking of depression and panic, doesn’t want to face their kindness or their understanding because he  _ knows  _ it’ll just make him break down all over again, and then he’ll have ruined their evening.

In truth it’s better that he’s here, alone in his room, where he can’t bother anybody. He’s not even a bother to his aunt and uncle because they’re out in the living room, watching the television and drinking wine, and they think that he just wasn’t feeling well and that’s why he didn’t go, and they’re not worried about him, which is the ideal. What’s stupid is that he’s sitting here and crying, feeling sorry for himself, hating himself, because he did something that he knows is going to be better for everyone else in the long run. It’s stupid that he’s sitting here and thinking about everything that he could be doing right now, instead of what he chose to do, and regretting his choices and yet being unable to stand the thought of doing anything to fix them.

Shuichi closes his eyes. He’s awfully tired. He’s been trying to stay awake until midnight, because he feels like he would feel even worse if he fell asleep and woke up tomorrow morning knowing that he slept right through the end of the year, but he honestly doesn’t see much of a point of staying up considering that he’s not with anybody. It’s not like he has anybody here to celebrate with. (He  _ could,  _ though.)

Eventually, Shuichi ends up lying down on his side, though his knees are still tucked into his chest. He hugs his legs close and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out that incessant voice in his head that’s telling him that this could have easily been avoided if he had just gone to the celebration. He wouldn’t feel this awful if he had gone. It’s his fault that he’s not with everyone right now. He doesn’t deserve to be with them right now. They’re probably enjoying themselves even more since he’s not there. He--

A gentle knock on his door rouses Shuichi from his thoughts. “Hey kiddo, you awake?” His uncle’s voice. The doorknob turns and Shuichi’s uncle pokes his head into the room, eyes flitting around until they land on Shuichi on the floor. His eyebrows tilt a bit, like he’s concerned, but he manages a smile, perhaps to keep his nephew from feeling bad. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm,” Shuichi pushes himself to sit up, wiping stray tears from his face with his sleeve under the pretense of rubbing his eyes. “F-Fine, why?”

“There’s a friend of yours at the door asking for you, but if you’re still feeling unwell, I can tell him to leave.” His uncle replies, looking at Shuichi like he knows that he’s not really sick. Despite the kindness in his uncle’s tone, Shuichi can’t help frowning. Who would be asking for him right now? One of his friends? But they’re all…

“Who is it?” He asks, pulling himself off of the floor. His legs are a bit shaky, but it’s not because he feels unwell-- not physically, that is. He does feel unsteady though, and it’s probably from sitting down for so long. Belatedly, he wonders why he even asked. He’s not sure it’s going to affect his response. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea if he sees anybody right now. Or rather, if anybody sees him while he’s like this. (There he goes again though, instinctively isolating himself, even when he has the opportunity to break out of it.)

“You have so many friends, it’s hard for me to remember all of their names,” chuckles his uncle with a shake of his head. “This one is named Rantaro, I think, though.”

“Amami?” Shuichi’s eyes widen. “Why would he…” he trails off, biting his thumbnail.

“He seemed worried,” offers his uncle, as a sort of explanation. “It’s possible that he came to check up on you.”

Shuichi glances at the clock. It’s getting closer to eleven thirty-- why would Rantaro stop by now, of all times? Wasn’t he at the celebration? (Actually, Shuichi can’t remember if Rantaro is even in the groupchat or not. To be fair, he’s not at school all that often. So maybe he doesn’t know about the celebration. But shouldn’t he? Kaede wouldn’t let anybody be left out, Shuichi is certain of it. That was definitely what she was trying to do with him.) “I’ll… go down.” He decides after a moment.

He grabs a hoodie because all he’s wearing is the tank-top he slept in last night and pulls it over his head as he pads down the stairs. The hallway outside his room is dark, likely because it’s so late, but the light is on in the foyer, and he can see that the front door is open just a smidge, and the light is on on the porch, to. Shuichi quickens his pace a bit when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops on the mat in front of the door, debating putting on shoes but deciding that socks are probably fine since he’s not going anywhere.

When he opens the door all the way, he swallows hard and meets Rantaro’s eyes.

“Hey,” the other boy greets, offering a small smile. Shuichi returns it, but it feels forced, and based on the look that Rantaro gives him, it’s probably pretty obvious, so the detective allows it to drop. “Sorry for coming by so late. Are you alright?”

Right into it, huh? Shuichi averts his gaze and nods. He doesn’t really trust himself to make up a lie as an excuse for why he didn’t show at the celebration. The air from outside is chilly (it’s late, after all) and even through his hoodie, he feels a bit uncomfortable at the temperature difference. As he ponders speaking, he rubs his arm, trying to look anywhere but at the adventurer.

“Akamatsu said you texted her that you couldn’t come but didn’t respond to any of her texts after that.” So she  _ did  _ text back asking why. Shuichi feels the guilt from earlier begin to resurface and swallows hard, hoping that he doesn’t start crying again. (Because then he’d have to slam the door in Rantaro’s face so he doesn’t do it in front of the other boy and that would be really hard to explain to his uncle.) “She said you didn’t even read them, actually,” Rantaro adds, frowning. “Are you really okay? Did something happen?”

“No,” Shuichi says quietly, because this at least he can be honest about. His voice feels thin and shaky. “Nothing happened, I just--” he breaks off, because any further and he would have to make up his mind about whether he wants to explain how he felt this morning or make something up about being sick.

Rantaro hums, though, and reaches out to touch his forehead. The movement is sudden but it’s nothing he’s not used to from Rantaro (who acts like an older brother to the vast majority of the class) so Shuichi doesn’t necessarily startle, but his cheeks do warm when he feels Rantaro’s hand pressing against his face. “You don’t seem to have a fever, are you just not feeling well?”

“I--” if things keep happening at this rate, he is going to cry. It feels inevitable. “I’m, ah, I didn’t--” Shuichi bites his lip as Rantaro retracts his hand from his forehead. It’s just, he doesn’t really know-- “I don’t know what to say,” he whispers finally, looking up to meet Rantaro’s eyes. The adventurer’s forehead is wrinkled with concern, and honestly it feels terrible being under such a heavy look, but it’s impossible for Shuichi to look away now that he’s looked back.

“We’ve been missing you at the celebration tonight.” Rantaro replies softly. “Everyone else would’ve come, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. I didn’t want them to overwhelm you. Was I wrong?” Shuichi shakes his head quickly; Rantaro being here is bad enough. Anyone else and he’d most certainly shatter into pieces. “Okay,” his voice is awfully quiet still. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything, Saihara. Or explain anything. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Shuichi manages to force out. Then he does look down, at his hands, as he messes with the bottom of his hoodie so that he has something to fidget with. “I-It’s not fine, I-- I wanted to be there. I still-- but I--” he cuts off again, biting the inside of his cheek so hard a metallic taste fills his mouth. “I don’t even know why I didn’t go, I-I just woke up this morning a-a-and knew that I couldn’t--”

“Saihara, hey, hey,” Rantaro puts a hand on Shuichi’s shoulder right as it starts shaking, which really doesn’t do much other than give him something to lean his weight against, because he’s starting to cry in earnest now, not just alone on the floor in his room. “C’mere, it’s okay,” Rantaro mumbles, and Shuichi lets the other boy pull him into an embrace, shivering even though Rantaro’s arms are incredibly warm. “You’re okay. You’re fine. Nobody’s mad. It happens. People were worried, but everyone trusts you.”

(Somehow, that makes Shuichi cry harder, screwing his eyes shut and twisting his hands in the fabric of Rantaro’s jacket.)

“There’s going to be next year, okay? And we can even still go now, if you want, I can drive you.” The offer is nice, but Shuichi shakes his head anyway. He doesn’t want that, to walk in there when he still hasn’t entirely finished crying yet, and then to drag everyone else down with his tears. He’s probably already dragged everyone down enough, and Rantaro has even  _ left  _ the celebration to talk to him, which doesn’t feel good, despite how nice it feels to be hugged. “That’s okay. Do you want me to leave? Saihara? I can go if you want, but I’m happy to stay here until you’re feeling better.”

It’s hard to think while he’s crying so hard, but eventually Shuichi murmurs a “Stay, please,” into Rantaro’s shirt, because the thought of being alone right now feels even worse than going and seeing everyone else.

“Okay. Okay, I’m not going anywhere, Saihara, can I take you inside?” One of Rantaro’s hands combs through his hair, slow and gentle, and Shuichi shivers again, trying not to sob aloud because that just feels obnoxious.

He shakes his head though, and hoarsely adds, “J-Just a minute, I-I’ll go inside in a minute, I just don’t want my uncle to see me--” he breaks off, figuring Rantaro gets what he means, and feels the other boy hum out an  _ okay  _ before his arms wrap more firmly around his middle. The embrace is strong, and tight, and mostly one-sided, but it feels good anyway, comforting, and for the first time today Shuichi isn’t thinking about the fact that it’s New Year’s Eve and he’s not out with his friends, because at the very least Rantaro is here, and everyone cares enough to check in on him.

“Take as long as you need, okay?” Rantaro says quietly. “Just let it out.”

Shuichi sniffles, trying to regain his composure enough to respond again, but it proves more difficult than anticipated, so eventually he just nods, and lets himself fall apart, without falling through the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> this was gonna be romantic amasai but then it turned into platonic amasai and i can't complain
> 
> KNOW that WITHIN THIS STORYLINE they eventually GET TOGETHER because they're my OTP and that's just how things work
> 
> amasai haters DNI
> 
> (haha remember when i was like "it's ok if you don't ship it!! you can ignore the romance and read this as platonic!!!!!" and now i'm an asshole... what happened to me)
> 
> i should've written something happy and fluffy for the new year but i, like,,, craved amasai angst and you guys really don't feed me what i want. what do i want, you ask? a breakdown scene with way too much buildup, brief hugs and comforting words, and then fading into unconsciousness, duh. that's literally the outline of every single one of these fics.
> 
> anyway
> 
> the falling metaphor is kinda cool, wish i hadn't forgotten it and then hurriedly dragged it back in again at the very end of the fic lolololol
> 
> this isn't a vent but i'm not really writing it to milk angst either. writing breakdowns is just, idk, cathartic for me. especially if they end with amami hugs. love me some amami hugs
> 
> happy new year (in advance ofc, it's 12:32 on the 31st for me so i still have some to go haha)
> 
> thanks for sticking with me so far, guys. let's 2020 a great one. comment telling me your new year's resolutions if you actually read this author's note :sunglasses emoji:


End file.
